


Tales Of A Background Death Angel

by Claradwor, TatteredSeraph



Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze, Elisabeth - Takarazuka Revue
Genre: Body Horror, Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, Different perspectives, F/M, Multi, Only in one chapter though, References to Suicide, Sassy Underlings, The angels are not paid enough to put up with Death's shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claradwor/pseuds/Claradwor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatteredSeraph/pseuds/TatteredSeraph
Summary: The product of the musings between two friends on what's going on in Death's minons heads over the course of the show and beyond. Where do the Angels come from? What do they do when they're not watching Death get shot down by Sisi? Some tales are fun, some are sad, but they're all begging to be told.





	1. A Single Look

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph
> 
> Welcome to our universe folks, a bit of an introduction. This is the product of too many late night watchings of the Takarazuka Elisabeths and noticing how utterly judgemental and fed up with their boss the angels seemed to look and wondering what they do when they're not following him. After all, what do you do when you have eternity? Our Death is a mix of all the zuka Deaths and he simply shifts between forms at will, it mostly just affects hair colour and height so specific knowledge of all the different Deaths isn't required. This started as a shitpost on the Elisabeth Discord and kinda grew into its own thing. Original characters will be introduced along the way along with universe specific mechanics.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~Clara

A single look was all it had taken. A single look which had changed everything, probably forever. A single look which had completely undone Death Himself.

It had all started very normally. A simple retrieval of a young Baravian noble, a child. A child who, despite having royal connections, wasn’t even worth der Tod fetching her himself. The girl was to be collected by a small flock of Black Angels following a party stunt gone wrong, before being met at the gates of the Underworld by its ruler, as He did with all mortals, when they crossed its threshold. The child was no one special. At least, not until that moment. Not until she gave Death _that_ single look, and demanded to be sent back, fearless even as Death’s icy hand was wrapped around her neck.  
Everything seemed to freeze in that one moment, in which for quite possibly the first time ever, a range of emotions seemed to flicker in quick succession a mix of fury, lust, and love, and pure confusion at these unfamiliar emotions coursing through his veins. Death was shaken deeply, he didn’t know what he was going through. He glided to and fro - Death was never one to actually stumble, his very nature made him immune to such acts... surely -, while questioning himself. The girl, now suddenly very scared and confused at her current situation, was at times being spun around by Death in his arms, before being passed into the hands of the Black Angels  
Madeline took concerned looks at both her Lord and her brethren Angels. All of them were likewise casting surreptitious glances at Death and the girl, while passing her between them as they danced the dance of death. All were worried at what that single look, and the subsequent response from Death, would result in. The potential havoc that might be wrought. Some were somewhat amused by this event unfolding. Thinly veiled smirks and questioning looks were thrown between them. All of the angels, having once been human before casting off their mortal fetters, recognised those emotions.  
At one point, the girl, overwhelmed by her experience, all but fainted in Death’s throne, guided there by a couple of angels. Good. Hopefully with having passed out now, the child couldn’t cause any more uproars than she’d already caused with moments of entering the Underworld.

Madeline all but breathed a figurative sigh of relief, as Death did the rare thing of deciding that it wasn’t this mortal’s Time. None however had stood up to Him in quite this fashion and gotten away with it, none had elicited such a response. In all of her years of service to Death, including her time at His left hand side as His Lieutenant, never had Madeline see Death act this way. He seemed besotted, obsessed, and it had taken a single moment to do this.  
Death, together with the entourage of Angels around him, phased into that in-between space of being in the Mortal Realm yet unseen, before restoring the girl’s soul into the vacant body resting atop her bed, surrounded by grieving family. With a kiss of fingers to His lips, Death blew life back into the girl, having declared that He would win her love. Whether it was actually love, or the thrill of the hunt and the conquest, Madeline could not say. In that moment she was truly perplexed. She simply hoped that that single moment, that single look, which had quite possibly shaken the Underworld to its very foundations, had not led to the downfall of Death.


	2. The Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Claradwor

The young Empress breathed a sigh of relief as she shut the door behind the last of her mother in law's ‘pets’, and savoured being blissfully alone for the first time that day. The relief turned to shock, and then anger, as she opened her eyes and discovered she was not as alone as she thought.

Sitting on her desk was a pale figure dressed in black, watching her with open curiosity on its angular face. At first she thought it was Death come to taunt her more, but the graceful wings and feminine face put paid to that notion. A messenger, then.

“Why are you here?" Sisi snapped irritably. “Hasn't your master caused me enough grief, without sending his pets to torment me as well?"

The creature tilted its head in a rather bird-like gesture, before it - she? - answered her in a voice that made her shudder slightly with its supernatural edge.

“Why am I here? Curiosity, I suppose… to try and see what the boss sees in you. You're quite the talk of the Other Side you know, after all, the Boss in love? That's never happened before, and he's certainly never taken ‘no’ for an answer.”

Shock rippled through Sisi, as she realized that all the pale hair and dark wings she saw when her unwanted suitor came to call were not reflections meant to scare her, but individual servants of Death. A million questions filled her mind but the one that slipped out was,

“They gossip?"

This caused her companion to huff in amusement, and say amicably “The angels? Like old women, and the betting pool on how long you'll hold out for is immense,” as it hopped off the desk.“Personally, I've got good odds on more than 50 years. Do try to make sure I don't lose, hmm?" 

Sisi could do nothing except blink in utter bafflement, as the angel paused before passing her on the way to the door.

"Hmm... and the Boss would be most put out with me if he knew I was here, so do be a dear and, don't mention it to him,yes?" it said, as it patted her on the cheek with an icy hand that made her shudder. With that, it vanished with a rustle of feathers, leaving the Empress alone, and wondering how her life had gotten so strange.


	3. Sleeping Shi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph

The hallways of Death’s Palace were quiet, dark. A peace had descended upon the Palace, with many of its residents either out on assignments, or slumbering. Of course, being within the Underworld, the Palace was always dark, with light never quite truly penetrating its supernatural shadows, but at cyclic times the shadows would feel darker. It was the closest that the Underworld bore to a day and night cycle. The ever-burning blue flames in wall sconces which lit the corridors burned lower, dimmer.

At this time, Madeline was wandering the Palace’s halls, a purposeful stride that was not quite a hurry. That, she didn’t need to go so far as doing. However, it had to be said that a slightly pressing concern had arisen. The Palace’s Master was missing, having not been seen for some hours. Last any of the Black Angels knew, with Corv having been the last to see him, Death had returned from his last visit to the Mortal Realm. He’d been visiting there quite a lot lately. 

Not that he didn’t go forth into the Land of the Living frequently, after all, he was Death Himself, the Ferryman of souls into the Afterlife. But with the number of people in the world, he couldn’t collect everyone who crossed over, thus the purpose of his Black Angels, aka the Death Angels, who assisted him with his work. Most of the time, The Boss would only go in person to collect the most important of souls, those who, Fate had decreed to be worthy of that honour. However, one soul in particular of late had captivated his gaze to the point of infatuation. A soul of a young woman who had passed briefly into Death’s Domain as a child, brought across by the angels, before demanding she be sent back. Few could make such demands of Death, but none were quite like the Empress of Austria, Elisabeth. 

When some had started questioning the whereabouts of their Boss, Madeline had taken it upon herself to go in search of their missing Master. It helped that she had the privileges of being able to venture into his private chambers, as his right hand. There were times when urgent matters needed tending to, sometimes when Death had already retired to his personal rooms. He had been extremely busy of late, and only in part due to his affairs with the young Empress. As such, Madeline had bee-lined straight for Death’s quarters, only for him to be nowhere in sight, his bed untouched.

A frown crossed the angel’s delicate features, her lips pursed in concern. She’d searched high and low already, and there had been absolutely no sight whatsoever of Death. She’d started venturing into some of the quieter corners of the vast Palace, looking in all of the various nooks and crannies which lined the many hallways. Finally, after what seemed to be a small eternity, in a quiet, high up and tucked away corner, the labour of her search bore some fruit. 

Tucked away in a nook designed for reading or relaxing, a small figure was tightly curled up beneath the liquid folds of a long coat, with ashy blonde strands of hair spilling out across a pillow. Dark eyelashes fluttered gently against porcelain pale skin, eyes shut in sleep. Death was clearly exhausted. Considering his nature, there was no gentle rise and fall of his chest, as there would be in a sleeping mortal.

Madeline smiled gently, taking in the sight before her. It was so rare to see the Boss take on this form, the smallest of all of his incarnations. He looked like an youth in this form, not quite child-like, but certainly petite. He must have chosen it for the convenience of size, to be able to curl up so tightly in the nook. He so rarely slept like this, so deeply, and it was a clear sign of just how worn out he must have been. He’d obviously chosen this corridor because it was a less commonly trodden path, tucked away as it was, so as not to be disturbed. The coat draped over him was making a very effective impromptu blanket, being one of his from one of his taller forms, which he’d been in earlier. It was full length, with designs on them resembling broken mirror shards or butterfly wings, with iridescent scale like fabric in the ‘shards’.

Gently, ever so gently, Madeline carefully scooped up the sleeping figure of Death, cradling him against her chest, with one arm under his legs, the other arm around his back. It was almost motherly, a side so few saw of Madeline, who was often seen as the fearsome second in command to Death, his trusted informant. After all, she had been a spy and assassin under a courtesan’s guise in life. A small head rested in against the crook of Madeline’s shoulder, almost tucked in beneath her chin. 

As she’d picked him up, Madeline had made sure not to leave behind Death’s coat. She kept it draped over him. A small hand curled into a fist tightly gripped the cloth. There was not even so much as the slightest stirring of Death as Madeline stood up fully and started walking back down the corridor; he only snuggled deeper against her chest. Content, peaceful. 

As she walked, Madeline thought to herself how cute the Boss looked at present, fast asleep. Of course, she would never admit it to his face. Even in this form. Belying his small stature, this was one of his fiercer forms. That said, he obviously needed the rest right now, considering how he had barely moved. Continuing to smile to herself, the angel headed to one of the more populated areas of the Palace. Even though he had sought solitude for his sleep, the ‘puppy pile’ would be a far better place for Death to sleep, surrounded by his beloved angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angels totally sleep in a big puppy pile and you can fight me on this.
> 
> ~Clara


	4. Where do I put this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Claradwor

Death looked down, slightly bewildered at the small child clinging to Him like a limpet. He held the boy slightly awkwardly, as the child wrapped his arms around Death's neck and sleepily begged him to stay. Turning Sisi's only son to His side had been a great idea in theory, but He quickly discovered that He had no idea what to do with such a young, living child that was so starved for affection he would literally cuddle Death Himself with no hesitation.

He stood from the little Prince's bed and hesitated, unsure what to do, when one of His angels slipped from the shadows, summoned by His confusion at being cuddled.

The angel took in the scene with a private smile of amusement, as Death gestured helplessly to His unexpected passenger and said, "Where do I put this?" in a low tone.

The angel snickered and held out their arms, their black velvet coat glittering faintly in the moonlight, as Death passed them the half asleep Prince. Rudolf whimpered slightly, and blinked up into the smiling face of the curly haired angel, but soon settled his head onto his new companion's shoulder as they soothingly rubbed his back.

Death flicked his long black and white hair over His shoulder, and dusted Himself off, trying to regain His composure before vanishing. The angel stood silently in the empty bedroom, staring at the bed before coming up with a better idea and vanishing, taking the little prince with them.

Rudolf was only faintly aware of where we was, his long day and tiredness finally catching up with the young boy. However, he roused slightly as whispers erupted around him.

"Sparkles is that?-" 

"A mortal child? Have you gone mad?"

"Hush you, it's only for one night. He needs the comfort of the pile."

He soon found himself ensconced in a comforting tangle of wings and limbs, as he snugged into the side of the one closest with a sigh, drifting off to sleep feeling more at peace than he ever had before.

The next morning, Rudolf was disappointed to find himself in his own bed. Already the memory of warm feathers and cool arms was fading… Did it even happen? The memory of snuggling his cheek into the softness of the angels’ wings still felt so real it couldn't have been a dream. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again he noticed the long dark feather resting innocently on his pillow.


	5. Mayerling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Claradwor

Madeline laughed as her siblings spun the hapless Prince into a dance. The Boss had His claws so deep into that one that he never stood a chance.

"Although, he is a good dancer,"she mused. "Maybe, he will join us after-" 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. It seemed the waltz had come to its conclusion while she was distracted. She looked up from folding the pretty Prince's coat over her arm in time to see the Boss pull back from the Kiss, with an entirely too satisfied smirk on His face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello naughty children its angst time. The next couple are rather heavy so buckle up.
> 
> ~Clara


	6. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph
> 
> TW Body horror

Pale, slender fingers ran over the neatly laid out clothing on top of the bed. Black velvet and satin atop of black brocade. As were most things in the expansive bedroom. Any touches of colour, aside for pieces of metal here and there, were dark and highly muted. The shadows of the Underworld were unnaturally deep, light penetrating less and shining more dimly than in the Mortal Realm. The clothes themselves, like the room, were all of the highest of quality, but sombre simplicity were in stark contrast to the highly decorated uniforms of his mortal life. A blue jacket adorned with rows of medals, accents of red, and gold braid trims had been replaced by a mostly plain black cotton velvet jacket adorned with only a few silver buckles at the waist, or a few similar such jackets. The uniform, like that of his mortal lifetime, also consisted of long cavalry boots, fitted trousers, and a shirt. Sometimes a waistcoat, depending on the jacket.The same as the rest of his new brethren. Here, in this place, he was no longer a crown prince, he was one of the flock, where none held official aristocratic titles aside for Death Himself. He was no-one special.  
In the moments in which he had tried, unconsciously, acting like his former self, acting the lordly crown prince and ruling over the others in some manner, the other angels were quick to rebuke him. His words and actions were met with either scorn or mocking addressing of him as ‘his Highness’. Other times he was ignored. One day Rudolf had returned to his room to find that someone had left, neatly folded, a black and silver version of his mortal uniform. It had not taken more than a moment to realise the ‘gift’ for what it was. The Black Angels were swift to put him in his place and show him that here, they were all equal.  
Rudolf sighed.  
As he dressed, he turned to examine himself in the full length mirror which hung on one wall, the ornate Baroque frame made from swirling burnished silver. Rudolf almost didn’t recognise the figure whose reflection stared back at him with dark eyes. In the weeks following his death – suicide – more than just his way of life – no, existence – had changed dramatically; his body was also changing bit by bit, thanks to the kiss with which Death had inducted him into his flock as a Black Angel. His skin had taken on the alabaster hue of one of the undead, just as his already slender body had become even thinner and leaner already as it started to take on the androgynous form of his kind, just as the starting signs of his facial features softening were appearing. His finger nails, which he raised to examine, were already growing out and darkening to black. They weren’t yet the obsidian talons of a fully-fledged Black Angel, but they were on their way to becoming like that. It was disconcerting to behold the changes, to not recognise himself fully in the mirror any more. Him and yet not him. One of the more surprising changes which he had already underwent occurred in the days immediately following his welcoming into the Underworld. While bathing in the lavishly mosaicked bathrooms in the palace, to great alarm he had suddenly found all of his body hair falling out, aside for his eyebrows and eyelashes. However, what hair was left on his head was starting to grow in white. The smallest touch of white at his hair roots was already growing in. The biggest, and most unsettling of the changes, thankfully had emerged immediately, during his initiation ceremony. His wings.  
As Death’s lips were locked with his own, Death had breathed His power into Rudolf, which had coursed like a wildfire through his veins, before ripping out through his back as new limbs grew from his shoulder-blades, just as a plumage of black feathers erupted out from the stretching out skin. As Death’s lips left the now former prince’s, a piercing, agonized scream filled the throne room, announcing that a new Black Angel had been born.  
Rudolf had his wings un-manifested at present, but he could always feel their presence, corporeal or not. They weren’t as huge as Death’s own wings, but they were still large enough to be fully functional. They were also highly erogenous, which Rudolf had certainly not expected when he found other angels stroking them with their tapering fingers. The Black Angels, and Death Himself as well, were highly sensual and sexually liberal creatures, free to engage with whichever partner or partners caught their fancy at the time. Before entering the Underworld, Rudolf had thought as he grew up his ethereally beautiful and pale mysterious childhood friend a secret lustful desire he could never act upon. That was until he discovered the true identity of his friend. As a Black Angel, he was startled to find that his friend was not so exclusive with his attentions. It made for a stark contrast to the human society in the Mortal Realm.  
Funny that already Rudolf was thinking of himself as not human, as something _Other_. All of the Black Angels, just as he, had once been human, alive, but at the points of their deaths, each and every one of them had accepted a second kiss from Death and embraced entering service to their Lord rather than cross over into the Afterlife, transformed into Black Angels. To be a Black Angel was to be a shadow of Death, a minor psychopomp who serve Death by assisting Him with His duty of ferrying souls into the next life.  
It was almost a Black Angel that Rudolf now saw in the mirror, aside for the lack of white flowing hair crowing his head. But that too would be there in time, once it grew out. All of the angels, like their Master, wore their hair long and flowing, which further heightened the androgynous, sexually ambiguous appearance of the angels. That said, the angels were free to appear as they wished, male, female, or somewhere in between. Some were clearly more one gender than others, such as Death’s extremely beautiful femme fatale second in command, Madeline.  
Rudolf had discovered not long after becoming an angel that Madeline had once seduced his own father as part of a ploy by his grandmother the archduchess Sophie to oust his mother the Empress as wife to the Emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It was a scheme which Death, he had learnt, had secretly gotten involved with as well, in order to further his goals of winning over Elisabeth. Rudolf had not been best pleased to discover this all. A frown crossed Rudolf’s reflection as he remembered being told. Unfortunately, what had been done had been done, and the events of things currently unfolding were outside of his control. Just as they never really had been to begin with. That said, Rudolf did not entirely regret his choice of becoming a Black Angel, even though it was a servitude that he was now bound to for eternity.  
As he finished dressing, a mental summons rang out in Rudolf’s mind, calling him to the throne room, calling him to duty. While he was not yet ready to venture out into the Mortal Realm to retrieve souls to the Afterlife, there was still work to be done. Rudolf grabbed his gloves from the bedside table, the final piece of his uniform, and left, heeding the summons which called Death’s flock together.


	7. Severings

Rudolf was sat before his mirror, gazing back at his reflection. Once again, he found himself reflecting back on just how much his ‘life’ had changed over the last year, in particular, in the last nine months. So much had transpired since that eventful, fateful day in late January, at Mayerling. Since his mortal death.  
The figure reflecting back at him bore little more than a passing resemblance to the man that had in life been the Crown Prince of Austria, inside and out. The being sat in the mirror was lithe, and even more slender of build than in life, with an almost effeminate, androgynous appearance. Its skin was deathly pale, and long, pale hair cascaded over its shoulders to part way down its back. Its pallor made for a stark contrast to the jet black satin and velvet of its attire. The most recognisable thing in common to the prince was its eyes, looking back at him. Even those had changed, not in colour, but in the look contained within. But the being in the mirror _was_ him.  
Rudolf raised his gaze to meet that of the reflection of the similarly pale angel stood behind him, who looked questioningly at him in return.  
“Are you ready?”  
He paused at the question, taking a long, deep breath. Was he ready for this? Would he ever be ready to sever that last remaining tie to his mortal life, and take the final step in his becoming a Black Angel? His gaze dropped down to examine the ends of his hair, in both his reflection, and on himself. Sat at the end of the flowing white locks were a couple of inches of brown, the hair colour of his mortal life. He took a lock that sat hanging down over his chest in his pale fingers, lifting it up closer to his eyes to examine it. He studied the brown, which started abruptly at the end of the white, with a sharp line between the two. There was no gentle gradient of colour. The line was the changing point. The line marked the point at which his life as a Human had ended, and his unlife as a Black Angel had begun. He stared at the lock intensely for a few moments, before dropping it.  
He took one last gaze at his reflection, and nodded, mostly to himself. “Yes… yes, I’m ready.”  
The angel stood behind him smiled, and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” Corv said gently, her tone almost motherly.   
With a well-practiced flourish, she lifted the ends of the apron about her waist, and them to the back of the carved ebony wooden chair Rudolf was sat on. She took Rudolf’s hair in her hands, combing through the pale strands with her black clawed nails as she pulled it back from across his shoulders. Satisfied she had every hair gathered, she tied it into a loose ponytail with a black silk satin ribbon that had been sat on the dresser next to them. The tail was tiedlow, right above where the white ended and the brown began. Next, she took from the dresser a pair of large, and very sharp looking scissors, which were cast in a dark metal. In the other hand, she held the tail of hair.  
“Just watch, this happens very quickly. It’s a special moment for every new angel.”  
Rudolf looked intently back at himself, and at Corv, one of Death’s most ancient and powerful servants. He watched as she brought the hair in between the open blades of the scissors –  
SNAP!  
With a sharp, definitive motion marked by that noise, Corv made the cut. Released white strands of hair fell free, tumbling back over his shoulders. Barely a fraction of a moment later, starting at the roots of his hair, a few streaks of colour ran down the locks of hair, like ink splotches on paper. The locks which were changing were becoming either silvery- or brighter, almost royal, blue. The streaks matched in colour those in Corv’s white hair.  
Now they were the same. Now, Rudolf was fully a Black Angel.   
Their hair streaks matched in turn Lord Shi, and when Shi shifted His form, so too would their streaks change to match Him. The colour of the streaks denoted which form Lord Death had taken at that moment. While the streaks would regularly change, in both colour and in placement, that first time of colour running through a Black Angel’s hair was special. The streaks of colour only came through once an angel’s mortal hair was cut. With that one cut, Rudolf had not only made his final transformation, but also severed his ties to his mortal life as Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria.  
Rudolf looked at Corv, who had likewise paused for the moment after making the cut to watch the final transformation. She looked proudly down at him, the cut tail of hair still bound by the black ribbon still in her hand, which Rudolf could see. He watched as she replaced the scissors on the dresser, and reverently placed the cut lock of hair on a square of black silk. She looked down in her apron, checking to make sure that no stray strands of hair had escaped from their bonds of satin. Satisfied, she deftly untied the apron from the chair, and then from her waist. Rudolf turned to her in his seat, still watching the elder angel, as she explained to Rudolf what she was going to do next.   
“Every Black Angel keeps their lock of hair. One’s first white hair is also cut, to preserve that moment of transition. Like with our _Becoming_ robes, the hair is sacred, not to be touched by another angel after this moment. These items are off-limits to others, and cannot be used in the pranks and games our kind is so fond of. Only Death Himself may touch them. However, He rarely ever does so, and not without good reason. Lord Death would Himself make this cut, but His duties keep Him busy. As such, I, Jay, and Raven are appointed to this task.”   
Carefully, Corv folded the sides of black silk over, encasing the hair in a neat, protective cocoon. This she then placed inside a jet black lacquered wooden box, inlaid with a few elegant details in mother of pearl and silver in the corners. A small silver plaque sat in the centre of the lid, engraved with his mortal name. Rudolf Franz Karl Joseph.   
Corv lifted the box, and turned to stand fully facing Rudolf, who likewise stood. “This is yours. Your treasure. Guard it well.”  
Rudolf met the gaze of the ancient Black Angel, whose age was revealed not in her youthful features but in her dark, twinkling eyes. He carefully took the box, mindful to not scratch the sleek wood with his own talon-like black nails, as his pale hands were un-gloved at present. Turning, he made his way over to where a large ebony chest stood open beside the large wardrobe.   
Revealed within its white satin cushioned walls was his other treasure, neatly wrapped in folds of white silk bound with black silk ribbon. His Becoming robes. They were the robes in which he was clothed when Lord Shi had gifted him with a second Kiss, in which he was changed from Human to Black Angel. The full length robes had once been pure snow white, but with his transformation had turned to darkest black, which they would be forevermore. The robes had two slits in the back, through which his newly formed black feathered wings burst forth through. Next to the compartment in which the bundle containing his robes sat was a smaller compartment, sized appropriately to hold the box in his hands. This, he placed inside the chest, closing the lid on the twin treasures inside. He locked the chest safely, the lock wrought in a dark, burnished metal, the key matching. The key he placed in a drawer inside his dresser, beside which Corv was still stood.  
“Seeing now as it’s your special day, let’s see to that lovely hair of yours,” Corv purred, smiling, her tone still motherly in affection. She held Rudolf’s brush, ready for him to retake his seat. “Today, you get me to style your hair for you.”  
Rudolf dutifully obeyed, knowing full well that Corv was not one to be crossed. He sat patiently as she plaited small braids into his hair, some in white, some in blue, some in a mix. If it had been another to style his hair so ornately, they would have been met with protest. Most Black Angels arranged their hair into a wide variety of styles. Often, it was one of the easier ways for people who didn’t know the individual angels to tell them apart from one another, with their otherwise identical uniforms. It was a way in which their personalities could shine through. Personally, he would have preferred something simpler and more military. But this was Corv, and this was indeed his first day as a fully transformed Black Angel, the streaks of colour now in his hair marking him as such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we start introducing others although you've met Corv before, she was the one bothering Sisi.


	8. The Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph
> 
> TW: References to suicide

He stumbled forward a few steps, trying to take desperate, gulping gasps of breath, as he dropped to his knees. The air hitched in his throat. He could feel still the noose’s coarse rope tight around his neck, which he brought his hands up to rub. Upon his lips he could feel a numb coldness.

Taking a frantic look about him, he could see that he was somehow back in his dark prison cell. Behind him, still swaying ever so slightly, was the body of a man, clad in a soiled black and white striped shirt, and dark trousers and a jacket. His body. His surroundings confused him.

How was he here? He could vividly recall being on trial, being stuck in a seemingly endless loop of replaying his actions for a hundred years, until he had at last confessed. Confessed why he had killed the Empress of Austria with a slender blade. He had seen over and over, countless times, the Empress’s life, and the dance with Death she had been in since her youth. In those repeat performances, he had beheld the many pale faces of Death Himself, with his frightful beauty, shrouded in his cloak of night with its many stars. It had taken a hundred years for him to finally admit that he had killed Elisabeth with a knife given to him by Death, all in the name of love.

Now however, it was as though that trial had never taken place. His body looked as fresh as though he had been alive but a few moments prior. He could still feel Death’s cold lips upon his as He Kissed him, taking his life with that harsh, possessive caress. A gentle caress of Death was something which Lucheni did not deserve.

As Lucheni pondered his current situation, he became aware that he was not as alone in the cell as he had thought. From out of the depths of the cell’s shadows, which seemed to stretch out to infinity, he saw Death stood, towering over him.

“I… how…” Lucheni asked, his voice cracking and raspy. “The trial?”

“It was real.” Death replied. His voice was laced with danger, like from a pack of wolves or a frenzy of sharks on the hunt, all armed with razorblade sharp teeth. It matched the form which He wore. A corpse-white face with frozen blue lips and sharp, dark eyes. Mossy green, fading into blonde, hair spilled over His black clad shoulders. This was Death’s most ferocious, vicious, form. Befitting for Lucheni, the criminal that he was.

Death stood silently as Lucheni knelt there panting, trying to find his words. His gaze was piercing and judgemental as he looked into the very heart of the rogue’s soul.

“You were indeed on trial in Purgatory, which exists outside of Time. Following your confession, you have been released. You can now depart into the part of the Underworld which The Judge has decreed…” Death paused. His eyes locked with Lucheni’s, freezing him to the spot.

“Your sentence, justifiably, is to be sent to the pits of Hades. You lived a wicked life of crime, regardless of your final act. Even though your killing of Elisabeth was under My orders as My servant, it does not absolve you. However… I am here with an offer. One which would spare you from eternal torment.”

Death stepped forward, roughly grabbing Lucheni under his chin, jerking his head up. He stood in silence, measuring Lucheni’s reaction. The Italian scoundrel kept his gaze on Death, unwavering. He barely flinched as he was grabbed, his expression still a mix of bewilderment and rapt attention. An excited gleam had started to burn in his eyes as Death had mentioned an offer, filled with hope, the thrill of excitement, and a touch of desire. Lucheni licked his lips.

Seemingly satisfied, Death released His hold on Lucheni and stepped back. His gaze had never left Lucheni.

“I am offering you the chance to become a Black Angel, and fully join the ranks of My servants. Do you accept?” Death’s voice was clear as a bell in the otherwise silent cell. 

Lucheni didn’t hesitate for even so much as a moment before giving his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Historically, the real Luigi Lucheni hanged himself with a leather belt. However, Clara and I are going by the musical here, in which Lucheni is depicted as having hung himself using a rope in some versions. This part is completely absent from the Takarazuka version of Elisabeth, however. 
> 
> ~ Tat


	9. Wo bist du?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph

Sisi was on her way back to the Afterlife from Death’s Palace when it happened. A voice, all too familiar, and which she had thought she might never hear again spoke a single word behind her.

“Mother.”

With a gasp, she flew round, only to come face to face with a pale figure dressed in the livery of Death’s servants, his Black Angels. Like a majority of the angels, this particular angel had long, flowing white hair flecked with colour marking whichever form its master wore currently. But it was the face beneath that mane that Sisi recognised.

Altered somewhat yes, but the face of the angel before her was unmistakably that of her son, Rudolf. The expression was sterner, with a pitch black, endless darkness within his eyes now, but there stood before here was still, in many ways, her little boy. She had at last found him.

In the blink of an eye, she had crossed the distance between them, and flung her arms and him, and in doing so had bridged a distance which should have been been crossed long, long before, back before tragedy had befallen them.

“My boy.... Mama is here. I’m so sorry...”

After a moment’s hesitation, arms reached up and likewise wrapped around Elisabeth’s. Black gloved hands gripped tightly onto her jacket, just as she gripped onto the fabric of his. It was as though they were both afraid that the other would dissipate from out of their grasp, vanishing into smoke. It was in this manner that the two stood, the tears flowing freely from both. They were at last reunited, in Death’s Realm, one, now a servant of Death, the other Death’s lover.


	10. How Pinky got her Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph

A long row of immaculately dressed Death Angels stood at attention, a banner of black velvet coats and long leather boots polished and buffed to perfection. Shi, also known as Death Himself, expected nothing less from his angels. True, they could magic their uniforms into perfection, but taking care of their uniforms was a matter which Death preferred they handle manually, the mundane and Mortal way. He favoured the discipline that it instilled in them. After all, he knew what his angels were like, prone to flights of fancy and whimsy all too easily. After all, life in the Underworld was eternal, and beyond their ventures out into the Mortal Realm in their work ferrying souls into the Afterlife on his behalf (Shi couldn’t fetch all in person himself) the angels had plenty of spare time. 

He smiled as he carried out his daily inspection, pleased with the perfection he saw, and expected no less of. Mortals had certain expectations of what they would be met by, and and while Death couldn’t be there personally for everyone, his emissaries were going forth in his name on his behalf. As such, they too had to be held by those standards. True, not everyone expected a slender, androgynous figure in a long coat, as opposed to the skeletal Grim Reaper figure of many of their stories, but still. As Death walked along the line, he took a careful look at each of his chosen flock, all of whom had chosen him as he had chosen them. He gazed into each of their eyes lovingly. 

As a consequence of his Kiss which he imparted to each one upon their acceptance into his number, every angel held a measure of his preternatural appearance. All were beautiful, androgynous creatures, touched by a reflection of him, of his power, with pale alabaster skin and flowing silvery-white hair, with small streaks of colour running through that matched the form which Death was taking at any one moment. One of the main exceptions in their otherwise identical uniforms was the manner in which they styled their hair; some wore it straight, others curled, some wore their hair partially up, some had braids. Every one was slender, inhumanely graceful (for the most part). 

Of course, as with anything, there was always the one odd exception to the general trend of his angels, and even then they still held to the strict rules of their uniform. Unfortunately, not much could be done now about ‘Sparkles’s’ particular condition... The angel in question gave Death a cheeky grin as he came up to them, a twinkle shining in their eyes.

Death should have been suspicious at this point. He should have known that something was up, considering the look that Sparkles gave. But then again, that look was Sparkles’s normal expression, truth be told. Shi should have known better though. He continued on his way, inspecting the lines before him, glad that all was in perfect order....

Until he saw it. The angel stood before him was a newer recruit, petite, almost childlike in her face, belying the cusp of adulthood that she’d been on at the point of her mortal passing. Her hair was only just starting to come in white at its roots, so young was she in her unlife. But it wasn’t the angel herself which was a problem per se. Rather, it was what she was wearing which was.

Oh, the coat was in the right style, a knee length velvet coat plain aside for the row of silver metal buckles which adorned the waist area. The long boots were the prescribed supple leather which reached her knees. Beneath the coat were a simple sateen shirt and fitted velvet trousers which matched the coat. Oh, everything was correct, as it should be. Aside for the colour. 

Rather than the required jet black, the angel’s uniform was bright, shocking pink.

Shi’a eyebrow rose. “What do you call this, Rosaline?”

“What’s what?” she replied, deadpan.

“This,”, Death said, pointing to the young angel’s coat.

“My uniform, Sir.”

“Yes, I can see that. But what is wrong with it?” Shi answered, trying to resist pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I can’t see a problem with it, Sir. I made sure it was all as instructed this morning. Coat, shirt, trousers, boots... They’re all in good order, Sir.”

“Yes, I can see that, but there is a problem here, and it’s standing right out.”

“I don’t understand, Sir. I cannot see an issue with it, Sir...”

Death snapped. Silver and blue flowing locks shortened and straightened, turning to mossy green which faded into light blonde. A navy coat decorated with silvery, feathery ripples turned to black edged with gold. 

“It’s PINK! Not black!” Shi snarled. His form had turned to his most fierce one, unconsciously, as a result of his sudden ire. The angel before him didn’t recoil in fright, holding her ground, although Shi could see it in her eyes, the flicker of nervousness. The angels either to side of her didn’t even twitch, their expressions carefully schooled from years of experience.

“I see that, Sir.”

“Just.... just go change. Go sort it out. And make sure it’s black!” 

Death took a glance at the rest of the angels further down the line. The rest of the angels looked as they should, an otherwise perfect line of black, with just the smallest shines of silvery metal and ripples of white hair framing pale faces. He sighed under his breath as he turned, striding away. The tails of his floor length coat snapped behind him as he turned.

The angels all stood to attention, in perfect order. That is, until Death was out of sight and earshot. At which point, carefully guarded expressions were let loose, and fits of laughter broke out amongst them. The biggest of these was from Rosaline herself, who had a huge grin plastered across her face. That had been worth invoking The Boss’s wrath for that reaction.

Her smirk and whoops of laughter faltered as a pale hand landed on her shoulder. She turned, and looked up into the face of Madeline, Death’s right hand. Madeline had a sweet, gentle smile on her face. Rosaline knee exactly what that sort of smile meant. She gulped. The other Black Angels stood nearby, circling almost like a feeding pit of a herd of sharks waiting for their prey to make one false move.

“Unfortunately, when an angel does something like this... there are..... consequences. Misdemeanours cannot escape completely unpunished.” Madeline’s tone was soft, gentle. But Rosaline wasn’t fooled, she knew the steel underlying that tone. If anything, she was more scared right that moment of Madeline’s gentle words than death’s fierce growl. But still, it had been completely worth it to see his face in response to the uniform.

The punishment, it transpired, was for her to have her hair dyed bright pink, as bright a shade as the uniform she’d dared to show up in. Bright neon pink to upset the beautiful natural silver-white of a Black Angel’s hair. 

Unfortunately, despite it being a punishment, Rosaline possibly enjoyed having bright pink hair a little too much. Which meant the punishment aspect wasn’t quite as effective a deterrent as it was intended to be. It wasn’t long before Rosaline found herself on the receiving end of this ‘punishment’ once again. Then another time. After a while, the other angels started noticing that even by the time that Rosaline’s white hair had grown through, there seemed to be an almost permanent pink stain amongst the white. In places, it was obvious bright pink streaks of colour. It was thus by this that Rosaline earned the nickname of ‘Pinky’. 

What were these actions and misdemeanours which earned these alleged ‘punishments’? Well, those are Tales for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without much further ado, I would like to introduce the pint-sized terror that is Pinky, one of our cast of oc DAs. When she speaks, picture a broad, North-Eastern English accent.


	11. Not all is forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph

Things weren’t completely forgiven, despite that joyful initial reunion. Old wounds had simply been left too long, and had festered, giving rise to bitterness and regret. 

The next time that she met with Rudolf, Sisi found his manner cool and uncertain. That same trepidation and uncertainty he had in life with her remained, on whether she would simply disappear again, walking away from him with her face hidden behind a mask and a fan. Now however, it was he who wore a mask to guard his emotions. His was made of white marble. Gone was the young man who had desperately clung onto her hand as he pleaded with her to speak with his father, as he had the last time that she had seen him alive.

This new Rudolf was colder, and not just physically. He was no longer the emotionally fragile, despair-ridden boy he had been in life. He had developed an inner strength about him which in some ways was more princely than when he had been a crown prince, even though now he was but a servant. It suited him well. But after that first reunion, the walls he had gone up on his emotions, and he closed off from her even as she had sought to finally try to repair the hurt left over from their lives. Even as she tried to show him that his mama was there for him.


	12. Three for Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by TatteredSeraph

It came as something of a surprise when the Empress walked into the sitting room to see not one, but three, dark figures sat on the sofas. The shortest of these, the one that Sisi recognised, rose gracefully, a bright smile blooming on her face.

“Elisabeth, my dear,” Corv said, opening her arms to embrace Sisi in greeting, placing a light kiss to her cheek, “I hope that you don’t mind that I’ve brought some additional company this evening for you to meet.”

Sisi turned to look as the other two figures, who the ancient servant of Death was gesturing to with a sweep of her arm. At an initial glance, Sisi would have pegged them as she had originally done with Corv as being shadows of Der Tod, all identical. They looked much as Corv did, alabaster pale women with long snow white hair flecked with streaks of colour. 

Unlike normally for one of her visits, when Corv would show dressed in a masculine manner, this visit Corv was attired in a flowing black velvet and silk gown, in a fashion popular in Wien at present, while a silver and jet necklace adorned her throat. Her mane was coifed and curled into an elegant up-do. The other two Black Angels, were similarly dressed.

“Elisabeth, please may I introduce you to my sisters, Jay and Raven.” 

The other two angels came forward. Jay had a sweet, kindly smile, while Raven’s lips curled into a playful, cat-like grin. The same mischievous twinkle shine in all three’s eyes. While on closer inspection the three did not have similar facial features, there was something about them which made them seem very alike, as sisters. The newcomers, like Corv, embraced Elisabeth with welcoming arms,

“It is good to finally get to meet you, dear,” Raven said. “Corv has told us so much about you, the infamous child who brought Lord Shi to his knees!”

“Indeed, it’s been positively unfair that Corv has gotten to come visit you so many times now, we had to insist this time that we could come with her. We’ve been practically dying to meet you.” 

At this, Corv swatted a hand at Jay, lightly hitting her arm, which Jay just laughed at. The playful banter between the three angels somehow broke the sense of quiet awe that had fallen over Elisabeth, who until now had largely been quiet. While she had finally found herself at growing ease in the presence of her friend Corv, with three of Death’s messengers there, the intimidation which she had felt upon meeting Corv for the first time had returned. 

Sensing this, Corv gently took Elisabeth’s arm, guiding her to one of the settees, while Raven poured a cup of tea for her. 

“We took the liberty of arranging tea to be sent up while we were waiting for you, so that we wouldn’t have to be bothered.”

With that, as the Empress relaxed, she joined in conversation with the three angels, the other two of whom she found as amicable and entertaining as Corv, despite their awe inspiring presences. 

It was following on from this first visit to Elisabeth by all three of the Black Angels known among Death’s flock as ‘the Crones’ that Elisabeth’s strange monthly get-together with Corv extended to include Jay and Raven as well.


	13. Threads

She sat there, seen yet unseen, as seeds of dissent began to be sewn. Her long needles clicked and clacked against each other, as the line of red yarn was woven into a pattern as she sat knitting. No one really paid her any heed, dressed in her simple grey dress, her white hair neatly pinned up., as they mingled and gossiped, about the political climate and the condition of the Imperial family. It was how she wanted things. A white bone china cup sat in front of her, full of hot, steaming dark coffee. 

Her presence was completely veiled from even Death, who was also here, in this modest, yet important in events to come, Viennese coffee house. He was busy stalking His prey, a trio of unwitting pawns in His machinations about to be joined by a fourth. He fancied Himself puppet-master in this little game of His, with the Austrian Empress. The two were caught up in a deadly dance, while the world around them burned. Lord Shi’s prey, unaware mortals that they were, had no concept of Whom they were plotting with, in their schemes of revolution, in their bid to overturn the government. They did not know the danger they were in.

The red yarn she wove spoke of the events that had unfolded and were yet to unfold, as events began to play out. The yarn was red with the bloodshed which was to occur. Including that which would come as a consequence of this simple-seeming meeting. Whether she decided the pattern she wove, or simply that she wove what *was* was a question which even She would not answer. Knowing what Fate wove was not an answer for mortals. It was an answer which in this case, even Death Himself was not privy to. Thus, could it be asked whether He was in fact the puppeteer here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Death’s boss, Fate. This is the result of a ‘What if?’ moment during a rewatch of Zukabeth, when taking notice of a background character, an old lady knitting, during the Merry Apocalypse song.


	14. Innocence

Rudolf looked up at the proffered hand reaching out to him, and up into the face of the felow Black Angel that it belonged to. She had soft, pretty features, with gentle, long-lashed eyes and a cherubic smile. A curtain of loose white ringlets framed herface, with a few streaks of colour rippling through it at the front. Greenish-blue mixed with rich dark purple. She was strikingly pretty, with an almost doll-like look about her, yet with a gentle stength about her at the same time. The angel in front of him was one he did not know well; even though Rudolf haD been amongst Death's Black Angels for several months now, he was yet to know all of the others well. The name Innocence seemed to ring a bell to him in association with her.

"Thank you." Rudolf, taking her petite hand in his, got to his feet, and began to dust himself off.

She smiled. "It was cruel of them to act like that. There was no need to go to those measures, to 'teach youa lesson'. It was unceccessary... You have been through enough." Her tone was, like her appearance, gentle, her voice quiet and yet Rudolf heard every word. Her voice was clear as a bell. He thought that he heard the slightest traces of an Austrian accent.  
The former crown prince grimaced. "They seemed to think it was."

"But you are no longer a prince. I see instead a young Black Angel in front of me, almost ready to take to his wings." She gestured to his hair. Her words were not at all an insult, instead referring to the last traces of Rudolf's mortal life, the brown ends to his growing out hair. It was close to being ready to be cut, thus symbolising that Rudolf could start venturing forth into the Mortal Realm once more, this time in his new role.

He looked again at the angel in front of him, having finished brushing the faintest traces of (imaginary?) dust from his uniform. He'd seen her about, but never really spoken to her. She was someone who seemed to hover around in the background a lot, and never really spoke out a great deal. She was serious but kind, he knew. Her opinion well respected when she did speak up. However, whenever Rudolf had caught sight of her, she had always offered him that kind smile of her's when she noticed him looking her way. Whenever he'd experienced problems, even if she hadn't said anything tp him, he'd seen her about in the background, watching over him reassuringly.

It dawned on him after a few moments of studying her face that she looke somewhat familiar. There was something flittering at the back of his subconcious, a thought, which couldn't quite break free. But then it dawned on him that she looked somewhat akin to Der Tod, moreso than the other Black Angels. Of course, they all held a fraction of His Being, His Power, within themselves. It was what made them Black Angels. There was something else buried under that realisation, but it wasn't breaking free.

"You're Death's daughter, right?" He asked, questioningly, a snppet of information that he'd heard coming to mind. The look he gave to her was searching, questioning. She gave him another gentle smile of affirmation.

"Yes. He took me in as an infant, after I died. I grew up here in the Underworld. It's why I didn't move on as most do."

"Why are you with the angels, then? Are you one of us?" He was confused on why she was not receiving special treatment.

"It's what I asked of father. I did not grow up as an angel here, I asked to become one. I do not want to be treated differently, more favourably. Amongst the angels, we are all equals. You and I included."

Rudolf nodded. To be treated normally..... He could understand that desire. To not be held apart from others on a pedastool. Just as it had held him aloft above most,it had also kept him apart from others as well. His mortal life had been a largely lonely one. Thus why, despite the at times mean spirited pranks, he relished the community that being one of the angels brought, the sense of finally belonging. "I can appreciate that."  
"I saw the life you lived, Rudolf. I think that I to would have chosen the same had I grown up in the same environment."  
The former prince bit the inside of his lip as he searhed Innocence's eyes. That same niggling thought under the surface of his concious was still there, trying to break free. Her gaze back was knowing, understanding him on a deep level. Both of elevated station by paraentage, both born and adopted, yet not wanting to be of it.  
A slightly awkward silence settled, with Rudolf not knowing what next to say. The look in her eyes, while understanding, was growing a touch uncomfortable for him. They were almost too knowing, in fact, if he admitted it to himself. "I.. errr.... I should go. Thank you for your help."  
Making his quick excuses, Rudolf scurried away, embarrassed. With the polite but measured hurry that he made to get away, he almost didn't catch the softly spoken words that Innocence spoke next in his wake. "Take care, litle brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a nod to the original ‘Die Schatten werden länger’, which is utterly heartbreaking. I also admit that Innocence as Death’s daughter is in part also a bit inspired by Pratchett. She gets the Zuka Tods’ shinko forms.   
> \- Tat


End file.
